The Border Guard
by poketrooper
Summary: Dealing with my real life problems, and my thoughts on paper. Rated M for harm.


The clock struck 1:00 a.m. in the morning, but hardly a soul stirred. Most were sound asleep in their beds, waiting for the sun to greet them in the early hours, go to work and live their days in peace. But yet there were still some that were awake at these hours of the night, but they had no choice but to be awake and on alert, they were the Berlin Border Guards, the men of the German Democratic Republic made to guard the Berlin Wall, and prevent the flight of the people from the country.

Now the time hit 1:15 in the morning, and a single lone guard was walking along the route to checkpoint charlie. He was a small, slim figured boy, no more than 17 years of age. He had a military short haircut, and his grey-green uniform looked somewhat large compared to him, his gear seemed to sag off him, and his G3 rifle barely holding on to his narrow shoulders, the hat he was issued was a size too large for his head, and routinely slipped down. He was only a Private First Class, and was made to walk a mile long route from 11:00 p.m. to 7:30 a.m. the next day, his route went from guard post 2 near the Brandenburg Gate to Tower 14 near CheckPoint Charlie.

The guard was here not because he wanted to join the army of the GDR, but because he wanted to escape from the various people who tormented him daily. He joined to escape from his family who always seemed to blame just about all their problems on him, and were content to make him do whatever they wanted him to do, regardless of logic or reason. Socially he wanted to also get away from various friends who were horrible, and never left him alone, and when something never went their way, got angry about the situation instead of trying to resolve the issue like normal people.

The biggest blow to all of this was the recent break up that he was going through, the one whom he had previously trusted with his life, threw it the trash and ripped his still beating heart out. She claimed to still be his friend, but that was farther from the truth than anyone wanted to admit, she always talked to him dismissively, acted as if he was a bother when he tried to make conversation, and never would try and see anything from his perspective when he tried to talk about his problems. She had always tried to say that she was not worth his life, but in reality she was, she was always a rallying point that he could depend on, and when she was gone, it was all over.

He was trying to carry on as best as he could, but the thoughts about what it could have been like, or what might have happened always came back to haunt him, and would never leave him alone, she would never listen to his thoughts however, and continued to claim they were friends, act like it for a while, then act they way she usually did a few days later, and it was starting to wreak havoc on him, mentally and physically.

Tonight, things were changing, for better or for worse.

It all began around 6:00 a.m., only one and a half hours until he was allowed to go back to the barracks and sleep, but he was never going to see the barracks, never again. He was now one his final round for the morning, and he had to go around one last corner before he could get to Cp Charlie.

What he found around that corner however pushed him over the edge, he found his EX with another, she had gone and replaced him as if he was a pile of trash, and then treated him like so. "You would never be able to measure up, you were never good enough, and never will be." The word stung him to the core, this was too much to bear. "If I were you, I would get out of here a never come back, you had your chance, and you blew it."

This finally pushed him over the edge, and he just took off running towards the direction of the Brandenburg Gate Checkpoint, he ran the full mile not caring anymore, and he did not stop until he was at the checkpoint, and leaned on a military Armored Car. He stood next to the APC trying to catch his breath, and trying to collect his thoughts.

This had finally broken his resolve, and now he didn't know what to do to fix it. His answer soon came when one of his friends came up, and went off on a tangent about stories, and manga books, and never took a care to his problems, not even letting him speak.

He soon climbed up onto a guard tower on the wall, and began to look over the city, while his friend yelled at him for interrupting him. He looked over Berlin, and began to wonder why he even bothered protecting anyone if they were only going to stab him in the back, then his friend said the final thing that pushed him over the edge, "This is why she left you, you were too much of a heartless bastard to worship her, you deserve to be alone".

It was 7:30 a.m. now, and the guards were changing, and now the young PFC was plotting his next plan. His Commanding Officer was marching with a platoon of soldiers to take over the guard points on the wall, and at the same time his Ex, and family had come to the same spot, same friend having called them all, presumably to get them to help ridicule him, but they were never going to get the chance.

He finally made his decision, then with a swift motion pulled his G3 off his shoulder, gave the magazine a firm hit, to seat it properly in the receiver. He then pulled on the charging handle to chamber the first round, the he just held it to his shoulder, ready to fire it.

Then he saw the commander look in his direction, and he had a change of heart. He saluted his CO, and yelled to him, "Its been an honor serving with you sir". His CO gave a look of confusion trying to figure out what he was doing, then the young PFC yanked the barrel of his rifle to his chin, put his hand on the grip, and put his pinkie finger on the trigger of the weapon.

"NO!", scream the CO. By the time the CO moved to run, the PFC pulled the trigger of his rifle, and sent a 7.62 bullet rocketing through his skull, killing him. He fell 10 feet to the ground beneath the wall tower, and hit the ground with a thud, but only the CO seemed to care. The rest didn't care if the PFC was dead, and they just simply sautered off like nothing was wrong.

The PFC, Constantine Kruchev died in the early morning of march 19 1976, it was his birthday, officially 19 years old that morning, and he was never going to see what it was like.

His funeral was empty, and the service was short, he died alone that day with no one at his side, and no one to care for him, he was alone in the world, and he would stay alone in death.


End file.
